


Stringer's fate

by AmandaBecker



Category: Sanditon (TV 2019), Sanditon - Jane Austen
Genre: Architects, Education, Eventual Romance, F/M, Happy Ending, Italy, James Stringer Story, Sanditon, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:48:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22979404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmandaBecker/pseuds/AmandaBecker
Summary: This is the parallel story to my story Fate.But this time we accompany James Stringer on his journey.
Relationships: James Stringer / other character
Comments: 45
Kudos: 32





	1. Silence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sanditonsisterhood](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Sanditonsisterhood).



> I thought it about time I dedicated a story to Mr Stringer, too.  
> I want to dedicate this story to my friend Amy.

Silence. It was so silent. The streets were so silent. No one laughed, no one could be heard, because there was no one left. Only his shoes crunching in the sand. Wandering through the ghost town. 

Empty. So empty. The houses were all empty. No one lived there anymore. Not a soul left. Except him. Everyone had moved into the city before winter came. Uninhabited, like his heart.

Blind. He hadn't been blind. He'd been watching them. The day of the race. Apparently, they'd been fighting. Mr. Parker ran after her like a fool in love. Just like himself. She was the only reason he went to that stupid ball. Dancing with her once. Hold her in his arms once. His father was right. But father wasn't there anymore. But he was still there. He would finish it.

The bar at the hotel was empty, just like everything else. But that didn't matter, so he could go about his business in peace ... ... yes what actually? Live in peace. When he had enough, he staggered home. Everything was dark and cold. Like his feelings. He'd actually thought he missed her more. But he didn't. He missed his father.

The wind blew cold through the streets and stirred up the sand. He had told Tom Parker that they had to pave the roads, but once again he hadn't listened. Lost in thought, James strolled along the road. 

Trafalgar House. 

There the light of a candle flickered. Not a soul in the four walls. Lonely he is hiding in there. Whether it was out of shame or some other reason James couldn't say, but he had walked past it many times, hoping that he would be able to talk to him at least once. Why had he decided against her? They looked so familiar up there on the balcony. At the midsummer's ball. But at some point he averted his eyes, he didn't want to see them get engaged. He had to admit, though, that it made him feel better than he thought. It didn't hurt. Not like that day at the regatta when she unconsciously let him know that he wasn't the man of her dreams. 

The next morning he went to his father's grave, as he did every day. Like every day, he knelt down, no matter what the weather. 

"Hello, Father." he greeted him.  
"I hope you can forgive me by now for not being there for you." It hurt so much in his chest. The guilt lay heavy on his shoulders.  
"I know, I know, you did everything for me and I let you down. I'm so sorry, Father." he had to hold back a sob.  
"I know you were always there for me, I was never alone. But I am now. And you forgave me eventually, that mom died, but I can't forgive myself for letting you die."  
Pressing his teeth together, he took a short breath and then he told about his further plans. In his memory his father shook his head, scolded, argued.

"Yes father. Winter is coming, there is nothing more to do here. You know that. I always carry you with me and I will come back. I swear to you." angry at himself for letting go of the promise to his father while the winter, he wiped away the tears which slowly rolled down his cheek.

The next day he took the stagecoach to London he had an appointment to talk about his apprenticeship. There would be no further construction in Sanditon over the winter and he hoped that they would agree to extend his apprenticeship to run over several winters. He had all the sketches with him and he had to thank Sidney Parker for the letter of recommendation which Tom Parker had reluctantly given him.

It was surprisingly one Sunday at the museum as she met Miss Heywood. She was there with the fine Lady Worchster, who had presented him with the prize at the regatta, and a young woman who looked a bit like her. James thought it would hurt him to see Miss Heywood again. Surprisingly, it did not. Perhaps it was because she was no longer herself. Not the bright sunshine she used to be. She wasn't really disinterested, but her enthusiasm was limited. It seemed to him that her mind was somewhere else all the time. 

In her younger sister he found an interested listener. Unlike Charlotte, who had some prior knowledge because she had helped her father, for Allison it was completely new. She asked everything down to the last detail and every now and then James found it so amusing that he looked at Charlotte to share the irony with her, but she never looked at him. Her smile never reached her eyes. He felt sorry for her that she had lost her light because of Sidney Parker, but it didn't hurt him.

Unfortunately, James soon noticed that Allison was looking at him particularly. With a look that he probably gave to Charlotte himself last summer, but which she in turn had only for Mr. Parker. At first, he didn't know how to react. Somehow he was surprised and honored that someone was looking at him that way. Maybe she was in love? James had to figure out what he wanted. He liked Allison as a friend, he didn't believe it was love, because every interaction with her didn't touch his heart. And if he was realistic, and he usually was, he couldn't afford a wife and eventual children. Not yet.

James wanted to do things differently from his father, who married young and lost his wife immediately after their first child. His heart contracted painfully at the thought, but unlike his father, he had plans. Professional plans. Ambitious plans. But it was doable. Even though he would not admit it and would not admit it to others, the words that Sidney Parker had written down in the letter of recommendation sounded to him.

"Mr Stringer is a talented, capable, forward-looking and modest young man who can work hard and take responsibility. We believe that his kind nature and unwavering skill will enable him to make it far in life and we wish him all the best for his future."

After the young ladies soon returned to Willingden, just before Christmas, nothing would distract him from his work. James was aware that all he would achieve was to concentrate and work to get better.

During his studies, which he was fortunately allowed to begin, he developed a keen interest in foreign cultures and architectural styles. Italy, France and also Greece were his favourites. His mentor, Jackson Edwards, urged him not to get bogged down and to concentrate on one country first.

"Stringer, you should choose the country that comes to mind first. I could help you choose."  
"But how, Sir?"  
"I would say I show you different pictures and give you testimonials from the countries on your list. You know Wilson?"  
"Of course, Sir."  
"He was in Italy and Pete Ravenshore in Greece," explained his mentor.  
"How impressive." James admitted.  
"Yes, they're both coming for dinner on Tuesday, I'd love for you to come, too."  
"Sir, I..." James was overwhelmed by the invitation.  
"Don't be like that. We're not all born architects and builders," he tapped the younger man on the shoulder, laughing.  
"I don't even know what to say..."  
Edwards shook his head and leaned conspiratorially towards his protégé.  
"How does it sound: what can I bring your wife?"  
"Yes, I suppose that would be an appropriate question." James said stunned.  
"She loves chocolates, so you have to bring her some."  
"Of course, Sir."  
"I'll give you the address."  
"Thank you, Sir." James' heart was beating more powerfully than it had done in a long time.  
"Put on your best suit and be on time."  
"Of course." he nodded enthusiastic.

Stringer could hardly believe his luck. It was incredible! When Edwards had left, he could let out the breath he had held unconsciously. He wanted to scream with joy, the urge to tell someone what had just happened was overwhelming. But who could he tell? His fellow students probably wouldn't like to hear him being invited to dinner at Edwards as a foreman. And the only other people he knew in London were the Miss Heywoods and, if you can call it that, Lady Worchester. At the thought of the ladies, he was pleased to have an appointment with them tomorrow anyway, to show them a little of London's wonderful architecture. And he would gladly tell them what had happened to him. James found himself smiling. Althought he feel guitly to be happy, it was the first time after the terrible events, after fathers dead, he could smile again.

Maybe his life would not continue to be so silent.


	2. outline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edwards‘ invitation brings James Stringer together with new people who will influence his future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not an expert in architecture, but I have researched the topic and hope that it is somewhat true. I apologize for any possible mistakes and hope that you like it anyway.

James was nervous standing outside Edwards‘ residence. For a moment, he wondered whether he should leave again. But then he remembered the words of the two Miss Heywoods. Alison encouraged him to pursue his goals and make his dreams come true. Her sister Miss Charlotte advised him to be grateful that he could take his fate into his own hands. This made him think for a moment that what had happened to her in Sanditon might not have been the decision of an idiot, maybe there was more behind it.  
But before his thoughts could drift back to Sanditon and the sad events of the summer, the door was ripped open and his mentor stood before him.

"Come in, my boy!" he shouted and let him in. Next to the door stood a butler who accepted James coat and gave him a submissive look. Why did James not know, but he had no time to think about it. Edwards had already introduced him to the other guests.

"Oh, Stringer, of course!" shouted Stephen Wilson excessively loud.  
"I have seen your designs, you are a talented man! Perfect! Perfect!" and slapped him friendly on the back,  
"have seen all of you. Great!" then he turned his attention back to his wine and his rather young wife.

"Thank you, sir." James was a little embarrassed and was grateful when Mr. Edwards led him to Mr. Pete Ravenshore, who barely reached his shoulder. The handshake was pleasant and firm. Pale blue-grey eyes looked kindly on him as he noticed

"Don't let him lull you." 

he pointed with his head to Wilson, who now seemed to be engrossed in a conversation with Edwards, and with his gestures and exuberant manner reminded Stringer of Tom Parker. And there he was again in Sanditon. The fire. Father.

"You're talented, no doubt, but if you were perfect, you wouldn't need an education, hmm?" James didn't know what to answer and tried to smile. Ravenshore grinned at him friendly and handed him a glass of wine, which one of the servants passed around.

Stringer was glad when Mrs. Edwards called him to her. She somehow had a sense that the young man was restless and somewhat self-conscious. She had a soothing voice and the charisma of a mother, although she herself was not blessed with children.

"Come, Mr. Stringer, I'll show you the garden." 

she said and took his arm while the other gentlemen followed. She led him onto a wide terrace, with a short flight of stairs leading down into the garden, which looked as if it had not been cared for, for years.

"What do you see?" she asked him with a smile and looked into the illustrious circle of the older men.  
"A garden." General consenting laughter.  
"Well, I'm not sure if you can call it that!" she said scowling at her husband.  
"My husband has promised me to make something of it for years, but never found the opportunity... what do you think, Mr. Stringer?"  
"Erm..yes, your husband is a very busy man..." his voice was careful, he didn't want to offend anyone.  
"That's why I had the great idea to let his students work here."  
James looked at her in amazement. Her watery eyes reminded him of the kind eyes of Mr Ravenshore.

"And you are the first to have the privilege of seeing it.“ her husband cried.  
"Oh, thank you sir..." James didn't know what he had done to deserve such good intentions.  
"Oh, no. You'll all get the plan next week with a list of wishes, which my wife has sketched very clearly..."  
"Not really...drawing is not one of my talents," Mrs. Edwards whispered conspiratorially to James.  
"I had asked my niece to do it for me. But her last visit was very short..." her thoughts seemed to drift briefly to her relative,  
"well, you with your trained eye will know the difference." she laughed heartily and then asked the gentlemen to accompany her inside so that they could all have a pleasant dinner.

The conversations during the meal started impartially with architecture and the various historical buildings, but then also turned to political opinions. This was uncertain territory for Stringer and he noted in thoughts that he should be more involved with politics in general. He had thoughts and opinions, of course, but due to his profession, which took up most of his life, and his father's entrenched opinions, he was not so sure of his own.

As if Mrs. Edwards sensed that this kind of conversation was not his subject, she entangled him in a conversation about his last job. Naturally, not knowing what had happened, she asked, quite naturally.

"will you spend christmas with your family?" she smiled at him nicely.  
"I... erm... have no family." James admitted and tears glistened in his eyes.  
"Oh, I'm sorry. Forgive me."  
"There is nothing to forgive. You didn't know."  
"Have you lost your parents recently?"  
She patted his hand caringly.  
"My mother died giving birth to me, and my father died last summer."  
"Oh. Was he sick?"  
"He died in a fire at the construction site." There. He had finally said it.  
"How awful."

James only now realized that the whole table had heard his story and lowered his eyes embarrassed. He didn't want to be the reason the mood changed.

"Was that the Sanditon fire?" Ravenshore asked and Stringer nodded briefly.  
"I heard Parker hadn't insured the buildings," cried Wilson and a cold shiver ran down James' back. He hadn't known that.  
"What? This can't be true!" shouted Ravenshore in indignation and Edwards interfered.  
"so only those people who learned the profession from scratch should be responsible!" Everyone agreed with him and the conversation moved on to more general topics. James tried to distract himself from his thoughts by the wonderful food.

After dessert, the men went into Edward's study. It was everything but what James had expected. The room was enormous. In the middle, opposite the door, was a massive desk surrounded by overfilled bookshelves that formed the centre of the room. On the left side there were three sofas arranged around a table and a view of the large fireplace, in which a cosy fire was already burning. The liquids in the glass carafes on the tables next to it glittered invitingly.

To James' right, there were several tables with models on them, maps, paintings and sketches on the walls. Countless rolls of floor plans lay in ceiling-high shelves. Boxes, crates, ornaments, small stowages even lined the space in front of the floor-to-ceiling window. It smelled of tobacco, oil and damp stone.

"So Mr. Stringer," Edwards said solemnly.  
All eyes were on him, but he felt more confident than when he won the boat race. These eyes here were all very kind to him. He was one of them.

"Each of these tables represents a different country. As I told you, you should concentrate on one style first. We have France, Italy and Greece to choose from. Take your time to look at everything and we'll fill you in later..."

he let the sentence float unfinished in the air and James heart began to beat excitedly. Would it really be possible that there should be a chance for him to visit one of these countries?

The other men went to the other side of the room and sat down on the sofas there. Drinking brandy, smoking and talking. James didn't look around, but focused on the nearest table.

It was a model of a big house, maybe a villa. The building had an impressive volume with its massive form and the emphasis was on a simple basic form. But he didn't really like it. The house seemed to have few windows and seemed rather closed and restricted to him. The paintings of landscapes that rested on the table next to the model all seemed gloomy.

The second table was already calling his attention when he was still standing at the first table and slowly James strolled over. The model showed a similarly large house, a small rural-looking villa. There was a flat sloping roof with a projecting eaves supported by brackets. High, narrow windows with round arches that probably let in a lot of light. But the most interesting thing was the asymmetrical floor plan. The paintings conjured up a warm feeling inside him, the picturesque beauty made the landscape appear before his inner eye.

With a smile he went on to the third table and there the paintings immediately caught his eye. The landscape seemed warmer, almost dry. Beautiful shades of red and brown mixed with yellow-green grass. The model here showed a villa again. Like the first one, the ground plan was symmetrical, but it looked much friendlier. It had a representative entrance, with a portal, decorative gables and a beautiful staircase. The entrance door had a semi-circular skylight, and there was a plinth that surrounded the building.

After another half hour, during which he wandered around between the second and the third table, he was torn from his dreamy thoughts.

"Stringer!" cried Wilson.  
"What's it look like, young friend?" cried Ravenshore.

And slowly the three gentlemen approached him with expectant faces.  
James was of course quite excited, if only he knew for certain which of the tables represented which country and therefore which of the gentlemen he now had to meet and occupy himself with more often.

"It's quite difficult. I mean all three of them..."  
"Nonsense!" cried Wilson, "you can't have it all!" and then he laughed like he was making a giant joke. Ravenshore rolled his eyes slightly but then nodded encouragingly to James and Edwards nodded in agreement.

"Although I find the third table very interesting, I think I'm taking the middle one."  
"May I ask why?" Ravenshore asked with a friendly smile.  
"I find the asymmetrical floor plan most interesting. It gives completely different possibilities for windows and stairs."  
Ravenshore nodded and then turned to him and pointed to the model in front of him.

"This is the model of my country house. I found the ideas for it in Greece."  
Wilson dashed forward and gave James a big hug.  
"Well, my boy, off to Italy! My wife will be happy to have someone her own age if you come with us next winter." 

He slapped him on the back again, excited, and disappeared from the room. They could still hear him calling for his wife.

"Well, James, you've made your choice. Asymmetrical floor plans and sunny Italy."  
"So it seems, sir, thank you." he said modestly, gazing at Ravenshore with an apologetic look. He nodded and meant only dryly,  
"if he's too annoying for you, you can just come to us by boat."

When an hour later all the guests said goodbye to the Edwards, James thanked them again for the invitation. Then Mr Edwards ask him to do his wife a big favour.

"Of course, sir, I'd be honoured." he answered with joy, not knowing what Mrs. Edwards was about to do. She reached out for James' hand  
"Mr Stringer, I would be delighted if you would come to our humble Christmas party."  
"But, this is only family...."  
"There are only two of us, and we have invited other lonely hearts. It would be a real pleasure for us if you would join us."

She asked so heartwarmingly that James couldn't help but nod. 

His heart stopped beating excitedly and nervously when he went home. It was the first time since the Midsummerr Ball that he was full of joy and confidence.  
Maybe today he had drawn the outline of a new life.


	3. commitments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stringer has some commitments before he returns to Sanditon for the last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter will close for now, and his journey and education can begin...

The days disappeared so quickly from so many commitments that James hardly noticed that the Miss Heywoods were leaving London again. Alison had looked at him expectantly when she left, but he could do no more than smile at her. He had the silly feeling that every kind word was wrong and might make her hope for something he could not give her.

No sooner were the ladies gone than he threw himself into work. Sometimes he even forgot to eat, if his nice hostess in the pension hadn't sent for him from time to time. The old lady was also the one who reminded him that he had an invitation on Christmas Eve.  
So he found himself again in front of Edward's house, this time the butler opened and announced him as if he was a someone special. Mrs. Edwards welcomed him warmly and introduced him to the other guests.

"Ah, you've met my brother," she pointed to Peter Ravenshore, so he was right about that.   
"This is our neighbour Miss Jerkins", the older lady made a nice impression and nodded to him friendly as Mrs Edwards pulled him away and showed him the decorations.  
"What do you think of our little round, Mr. Stringer?" she asked curiously.  
Uncertain as to how he should answer, whether one expected his honest opinion or a polite phrase, he tried his honesty and said  
"I look forward to being a part of it. Thank you so much again for the invitation."  
"ah, hush." she patting his arm.

"My brother is only temporarily alone because my niece is visiting other relatives in Scotland. But Miss Jerkins is a lonely old soul," she whispered to him.  
"She was never fortunate enough to marry, though she was such a pretty young woman. She regrets it to this day... well. I try to convince her to give her money to those in need. Maybe you have an idea for an investment?"

Stringer got carried away, letting his thoughts run free. The idea that someone was really interested in his opinion without distracting him with a pretty face made him give up his reticence and make his opinion known.

"Maybe there's an opportunity to invest in a school, or maybe she could..."  
"Oh no," shouted Miss Jenkins in between, "Isabella's trying to put my money away again." Stringer looked at the old lady startled and tried to apologise, but she waved it off and took his arm. "So tell me..."

Later, after dinner, they sat together in the living room and drank some more port. Pete Ravenshore talked about Greece and his work there and Stringer was a bit sad that he hadn't chosen the Greek table, because Pete Ravenshore seemed to be a quiet, nice man who appeared rather modest in contrast to the worldly manner of Stephen Wilson.

"Don't be sad, Stringer!" he said, "You'll be in Italy for a few months and then come and see me."  
"Sir, I don't think I can..."  
"Yes, yes," he tapped him on the shoulder "with Wilson you have to work hard, keep to schedules and yes...you'll see how it is." he shook his head almost imperceptibly,  
"I hope we keep in touch?" he asked friendly.  
"Of course sir, thank you sir."

James was happy that Ravenshore had offered it to him, it was really a great honour not only to have the opportunity to go to Italy but to stay in contact with Ravenshore, and maybe one day even come to Greece.

"I'm just giving you one piece of advice," said Ravenshore, who had already got the wine into his head a bit,   
"Don't make any commitments here. Don't make any promises to come back." He looked James deep into the eyes and nodded knowingly.  
"You don't know what the future holds," his grey eyes glanced briefly into space, then smiled at Stringer and patted him on the back again.   
"I was your age, and I tied myself to a woman who fascinated me but whom I didn't really love...."

Now Stringer had to listen to Pete Ravenshore's heartbreaking and sad love story. Slowly he realized why this nice man had such sad eyes and hoped that he would be spared such a fate.  
"But then I fell in love. I really did, you know?" Ravenshore smiled at the memory, but the sad expression remained in his eyes. Stringer nodded, although he didn't know exactly what Ravenshore meant by that, 

"I loved her so dearly, it was as the poets always describe it. Every touch, every look was fire and pierced all my thinking."  
At that moment, James knew he had never felt this way and became more and more detached from Miss Heywood.  
"but I was bound and not free to marry her."  
The whole tragedy of the story, lay like a dark cloud on Mr Ravenshore's face. But he wasn't finished. James' heart was pounding in anticipation of an even more tragic ending.

"I don't want to make you sad," Ravenshore then said, touching his arm lightly,   
"just remember your priorities."  
"Thank you, sir, I have no...."  
"Excuse me." 

Ravenshore got up wavering and left the room. He probably needed a moment alone. Stringer felt sorry for him, but was also curious if he had the chance to marry the love of his life or not. He was lost in thoughts as Mrs Edwards spoke to him.

"Forgive my brother," she smiled into the small round,   
"but at celebrations he often gets emotional and thinks how it could have been different."  
James clenched his jaw briefly, he often thinks about this question, too. 

"Don't get me wrong, he loves his daughter, she's wonderful..."  
"Yes, she is!" Miss Jenkins agreed with a smile.  
"But, she grew up with different relatives, they met only years later..."  
Stringer felt for Ravenshore's daughter, although he didn't know her.  
"May I ask if..." James didn't dare to ask the question on his tongue after all and drank a sip of his wine in embarrassment.  
"No, he did not marry the love of his life."

That touched Stringer more than he thought. It was a sad story. Though it was none of his business, he was curious to know why. He looked at Mrs. Edwards questioningly, but didn't have the courage to ask the question.

"By the time he got back to England to take his daughter, she had to marry someone else."

It was clear to Stringer at that moment that he didn't want to experience something like this. There had been enough tragedy in his life already. He made a firm commitment to heed Ravenshore's advice and not to make promises to anyone that he might not be able to keep.

But only three weeks later, at a reunion with Miss Heywood, he asked for a message from Alison. It was not love. Not even a little crush. It was rather the connection, the friendship that he had with her sister once, she seemed familar. Or maybe it was just the longing for someone his own age who also had dreams, even if they were very different.

They wrote nothing personal to each other. It was not really a forbidden thing. He told her about his education and explained his plans for the future. James wanted her to know that he had no serious intentions. Though he gave her no hope, he had a guilty conscience and cringed every time under the gaze of her sister. But Charlotte said nothing and neither did he.   
They did not see each other so often; not only did Miss Heywood have any obligations with Lady Susan Worcester, but he was so busy with his studies and the garden project for Mrs. Edwards that his hostess at his pension not infrequently knocked on his door and asked if he was still there.

In spring the gardening work had progressed so far that the selected students often sat together and chatted a little and did not see themselves as competitors working in their part of the garden. Mrs. Edwards also held back with compliments in Stringer's direction so as not to provoke any trouble among the young men. But it was not uncommon for him to be the only one allowed to stay for dinner. Mr. Edwards and Mr. Ravenshore also lent him interesting books again and again, even some that had nothing to do with architecture or history. The two gentlemen seemed to have taken a fancy to him and invited him to give his opinion on various subjects. He felt comfortable, it was almost friendship.

In the early summer he returned to Sanditon and continued to work there with his old colleagues on the construction of the town. The new terraces let the memories of the tragic events fade, but not completely forgotten. Eventually he learned that Miss Charlotte Heywood and Mr. Sidney Parker had married, he was happy for them and hoped that Miss Alison would come to visit her sister. And so she did for the first ball of the season. He danced with her, but felt nothing but friendship. 

At the Midsummer Ball, Tom Parker told him that the street around the new terraces would be named in memory of his father. He was overwhelmed with emotion and sought a moment's rest in an alcove, so overwhelmed that he could hardly feel the tears running down his cheeks. When suddenly a warm tender hand stroked his head, he jumped up and looked into the dark knowing eyes of Alison.

Miss Alison had a talent for calming him down without many words. Overwhelmed with feelings about the anniversary of his father's death, he told her that he was very fond of her but that he could not make any promises. Calmly Alison explained to him,

"Time apart will show us both if it's more than friendship, Mr Stringer."

her voice was stifled with emotion and tears glittered in her eyes. And in that moment, James knew that she realized it was just a distant dream. The two would stay connected in friendship, but he could never give her more than he could at that moment. A smile.

Two days later he knelt again beside his father's grave and said goodbye.  
"I know you wanted me to accept your inheritance, Father. But I want more, and I will do everything in my power to make my life the way I want it to be."

In his thoughts he heard his father ranting and James was glad he could still remember his father's voice, although other things seemed to be fading away.

"I know, Father. But I'm not you," he argued in his mind. Tears were rolling down his cheeks again,   
"I don't know when or if I'll be back father," he wiped away the tears energetically and concluded with the words. 

"Whatever my obligations. I will always carry you in my heart, no matter where I am."

And with these words he got up and slowly walked back to town. He had said goodbye to everyone before, and only had to pick up his things from Robinson. They embraced each other heartily and Robinson asked for news as soon as he had reached faraway Italy.

"I will try Robinson, but perhaps it will take a little while before you hear from me," he said, remembering Ravenshore's words not to make any promises he might not be able to keep. He now had other commitments.

His future.


	4. education

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stringer has reached his destination and begins his training at Wilson. And although he tries to concentrate only on his work, there are some distractions....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not a historian, so I apologize for any incorrect information, especially about Italy, which at that time was the former Kingdom of Italy and not yet the Italian Republic.
> 
> In order not to spread any more untruths, I have not yet given the place a name, so if anyone has an idea, I would be happy to hear it ;-)
> 
> It's a story in which the main focus is on the emotional journey of the protagonist and that he (a bit lost, alone and without a family) can find a family somewhere else or in someone else.

After weeks of travel, Stringer and his companions had now almost reached their destination. Wilson and his wife Grace reminded him of Tom and Mary Parker. He the never tired enthusiast, with exaggerated ideas, exuberant gestures and an excitedly loud voice. She the quiet listener who looked at her husband with admiration and yet worriedly considered her objections. 

Stringer tried to sit on the coach box as often as possible to escape the tightness of the coach cabin. Not only did he want to breathe the fresh air and marvel at nature, he also wanted to escape Wilson's completely unbelievable stories about surviving storm tides and floods. 

Besides, James tried to learn the language of the country and was not so easy when Wilson's loud voice kept him from learning the everyday things that Mrs. Wilson tried to teach him with an angel's patience.

"Oh, you needn't," Wilson then shouted, "we are all Englishmen and the men who work for us speak our language!"  
"But Stephen, he has to spend time alone sometimes," his wife told him as if he were a little boy.  
"Come on, he lives with us, eats with us and works with us," he laughed briefly, "he has no time to do anything else." 

James didn’t made a comment and looked out the window. Mrs Wilson then touched him lightly on the arm,  
"Don't worry, I'll teach you."

When the carriage stopped the next morning, James was awakened by the loud shouting around him.  
"Come James, we're here!" cried Mrs Wilson excitedly. She looked different all of a sudden. The calm and introverted woman literally jumped out of the carriage, hugged her husband effusively and even kissed him!

James stretched and walked slowly after her. The sun, which had just risen an hour ago, painted a dim light on the surroundings. He heard seagulls screeching and a light wind whirled his hair around. 

"Come!"

cried Wilson and tugged at his arm. They walked a few steps and now James saw his new home for the first time. They stood a little above and looked out over the colourful hustle and bustle down by the water. Young and old men were emptying ships and carriages both ways. There was a smell of fish and spices and before he knew it, he was sitting in one of the small coaches. The Wilson couple waved him over from their coach, and they drove for a while through larger and smaller alleys. Narrow and wide bridges lined their way. The sky slowly turned a bright blue and the houses they passed were breathtaking.

After a while they stopped at an imposing house. The Wilsons got out and waited for him at the entrance. Mrs. Wilson took his arm, which she never had done before, and he looked a little irritated at her husband.

"Just wait till you see the place," she said with an incredibly happy smile that convinced Stringer this was her real home.

They walked into an entrance hall that, astonishingly, was relatively modest.  
"That was the flood I told you about. That's why we took everything upstairs," explained Wilson who was now following his wife.  
"She's as swift as a young deer here," he remarked, pointing James to follow him.

The upper floors now contained the usual rooms away from the narrow hallway. A dining room, study, drawing room and parlour were littered with modern and historic furniture. Paintings that seemed to be hung up at random showed once more what a jumping personality Mr. Wilson was.

"Come!" cried his wife from the top of the stairs, and as soon as he had reached the top, she ran up another flight of stairs.

"The house is getting higher and higher," Wilson laughed and patted Stringer on the shoulder as they finally reached the top floor.

"Here!" Mrs. Wilson seemed like an excited child who finally wanted to give her parents a homemade gift. She seemed to bounce and her smile split her face in half. He had never seen her eyes shine so brightly or seen her color more clearly. They were blue. Mrs. Wilson opened the door for James and then slid past him.

"Sorry, I know it's small," but he could hear in her voice that she wasn't really sorry. James followed her with Wilson and registered at a glance, five pieces of furniture and a floor-to-ceiling window opposite the door.

"Come on, now!" She seemed to burst with anticipation and James rushed to her.  
She opened the window and the sight struck James to the core. He was completely speechless and gasped for breath.

Wilson pushed him from behind until he stood on the roof terrace. He could see the lime green bell tower of the church glistening on the horizon in the morning sun. Wilson had promised him that he would show him the market place and around a bit the next days.

"Well do you like it?" asked his teacher, James was speechless and could only nod.  
"I'm afraid you have the morning sun," his wife explained to her husband with a smile.  
"yes my daughter sleeps in the other room, it's bigger and the terrace faces west."  
"Mr. Wilson, I don't know..."  
"Stephen!" he shouted.  
"Thank you Stephen, I really don't know what to say!"  
"It's nothing, we wouldn't have another room available anyway." he laughed and went to the balustrade to let his eyes wander over the surroundings.  
"Back there are the houses we're building now." 

Stringer followed the outstretched hand with his gaze. And when Stephen Wilson spoke again with verve and grand gestures about the construction site and its difficulties, his wife came up, grabbed his arm and interrupted him.

"Now let James arrive." Then she looked at him with a certain look and Stephen left his sentence unfinished.  
James spent the remaining morning in his new room, or rather on the terrace. It was an intoxicating sight with the glittering sea below. After a while, a maid came and brought him a variety of refreshments. Not only a bowl of water, but also plenty of food. Fruits, ham, cheese and a small bottle of wine.

Stringer wiped off his shirt and washed the strenuous journey from his body and then sat down at a small table, which also stood on the terrace. With pleasure he ate and drank the rather strong wine. With his eyes closed he enjoyed the early autumn midday sun and the fresh sea breeze cool on his skin. The temperature reminded him of home and for a short moment he let the memories flood his mind. Taking a deep breath, he then got up and walked back up to the balustrade.

The wine had already clouded his mind a bit, and he began to laugh heartily and gratefully about his new fate.

James spent the whole afternoon with Wilson in his study on the lower floor. He looked at plans and calculations, and although he still felt the wine, he could follow it and even make a few sketches on the desired subjects. Eventually it was time for dinner and James was overwhelmed by the variety of food that was served. He had never seen Mrs. Wilson so relaxed and beautiful as the moment she entered the dining room. Her pale skin seemed to glow and she had freed her blonde hair from her severe hairstyle. She seemed softer somehow.

"Don't fall in love," whispered a pointed voice in his ear.  
"I would never..." he replied in shock as he turned, the rest of his sentence stuck in his throat as he looked into almond-shaped greenish blue eyes framed with thick black lashes.  
"I did not mean my stepmother." 

the young woman pushed past him and hugged the stepmother, who seemed not a day older than herself. Then she pressed herself against her father, who kissed her on the cheek and stroked the pitch-black hair lying in soft waves on her back. 

"My sweet child" beamed Wilson, "may I introduce my new student..."  
her beautiful face seemed unmoved, but her penetrating gaze hung on James as he came a few steps closer and bowed slightly,  
"this is James Stringer..." Wilson's gaze went back to his daughter,  
"this is Azura." he kissed her on the cheek one more time and then said to James as he walked by "from first marriage, as you can see!"

Unable to reply, James stood there until the young woman also strolled to her seat and whispered to him,  
"the name describes my beautiful eyes."

He couldn't tell exactly whether she was conceited because of her beauty or just a bit cheeky to get him out of his reserve. While he was still thinking about it, a servant helped her to sit down and another one pushed his chair towards him. He looked around uneasily, but the little skirmish of the daughter had remained undiscovered.

Since the first day after his arrival, he was with Wilson at one of the construction sites every day. It looked like they were building a whole road and it was much better organized than in Sanditon. What irritated James in the beginning was that also Azura was on the construction site every day. She had some good ideas, but he rather had the feeling that she was there to keep everyone from working. Not that she ever talked to the workers, but just the sight of her was so exciting that everyone forgot their work for a few minutes. 

James was no exception. Depending on the intensity of the sun, her black hair shone sometimes even almost blue. Her dresses were the latest fashion and emphasized her striking beauty. Sometimes he caught her looking at him from head to toe and not even blushing when their eyes met. A warm shiver ran down his back before she smiled almost lasciviously and walked on as if nothing had happened.

She also played this game at home, sometimes even a bit more offensive, so Stringer had to be afraid of getting caught, even though he was doing nothing. Except admire her in secret.

But at some point, however, he doubted any interest in him, because the only worker Azura talked to for longer than her own father was one of the men who mainly winterized the plants in the gardens. He was tall and slender and as far as Stringer could tell, more of a shy sort.  
He resigned himself to his fate, which all the women for whom he had the slightest interest preferred to be with someone else.

But when they returned to the construction site a few days after Christmas to finish the interior decorations, the tide turned.

They found one of the houses quite battered by the storm and the foreman and Wilson himself asked for extreme caution. But Azura, unwilling to accept Stringer's disinterest, began a dangerous game of sneaking through the rooms, climbing over fallen wooden beams and then ambushing him again on the other side of the room.

"Miss Wilson, you shouldn't be wandering around here."  
"Are you interested in my welfare or are you just ordering me around?" she then asked with flashing eyes. Stringer didn't go for it and just gave back,  
"it's dangerous."  
"Oh, now I'm scared." she mimicked him and kept running.  
"Now stop and..."  
"What?"  
"This is not a game, you could get seriously hurt."  
"I grew up more or less on my father's construction sites, I know what I'm doing." she called out and put her hands on her hips.  
"If that's true, you should know better", James remarked calmly.  
"Are you calling me a liar?" 

she said in a dark voice as she came closer and looked up at him. For a moment he was distracted by her cleavage and her whole attitude but he heard the crunch and the next moment a beam fell through the ceiling to the floor. He heard Azura scream as he grabbed her and pressed her against the next wall. He shielded her from the falling blocks as best he could until it was over.

Searching, he looked around and up as he turned away from her in anticipation of more crashing down. But it was only the dust of the broken stones that obscured his vision. As James turned back to Azura to ask if she was hurt, her lips already lying on his.

Barely a blink of an eye later the others were already on the spot and brought the two and other workers who were in the house to the street. The noise that had caused the collapse of the roof had also caused the colleagues from the other houses to gather in the street.

Still a bit dazed by the accident and especially by the kiss, Stringer watched as Wilson embraced his daughter and wiped the dust off her face as best he could. She pushed his hand away and ran towards Stringer who stood up with beating hearts and looked at her expectantly.

"Thank you." Their gazes caught for a moment but James noticed the slender man in the corner of his eyes, slowly coming towards them but then pausing in mid-movement.  
"Someone wants to know how you are."  
Azura turned around,  
"Oh, that's just Jo", she waved and suddenly the warm memory of her lips turned to disbelief. He smiled briefly and then went to Wilson to discuss how to proceed.

The workers gathered around Wilson and talked wildly, Stringer reported exactly what had happened and when the group disbanded, he briefly watched Azura, who was taken away in her father's arms and leaned against the workers' carriage behind him.

"Better stay away from her." the quiet voice behind him trembled slightly.  
James closed his eyes for a moment. He couldn't believe it.  
"She'll break your heart."  
James turned slightly,  
"Jo, isn't it?" he stared again in Azur's direction, although she was long gone.  
A strange little laugh. "Yes."  
"you know what you're talking about." it sounded like a question.  
"She's twisted the heads and broke the hearts of many here."  
"Like yours?" why would he ask such things? It was none of his business.  
"No." The voice sounded amused.  
James looked up and looked into friendly grey eyes. They seemed familiar somehow. The rest of the face was again covered by a scarf and the shadow of his rather large hat. Perhaps the young man had a disfigured face.  
"we are only friends."  
"ah yes." James couldn't help it if his voice sounded sarcastic.  
"Watch your back." A quick touch on the arm. 

And although he did not know the young man, this small gesture comforted him greatly. It was warm and friendly and it reminded him of something or more of someone. He just couldn't remember who exactly.

After the incident, Stringer tried to concentrate even more on work and his studies. Because every day he went to the university with Wilson and tried to be alone with Azura as little as possible. She irritated him, and her friend's words of warning still lingered in his mind.  
Even though the kiss was short, he still dreamed about it, but mostly not about Azura or the kiss itself, but more about the feeling.

James had no idea why time had flown by so quickly and imperceptibly, but suddenly it was spring again. On one of the warmer days they all went on a trip to the beach, which he had rarely visited before because he was simply too busy. Mrs. Wilson and Azura had a couple of other ladies with them and Wilson had invited a few customers, whose houses they had now soon completed.

Stringer stood with the other gentlemen and listened with only half an ear, distracted by the sight of the ladies. They looked like a picturesque painting and he pulled out his sketchpad to draw them. Again and again he looked over at them. When they noticed that he was drawing them, some started giggling and put their heads together to whisper.

"You should at least ask permission." was Wilson looking over his shoulder from behind.

Laughing, he made his way to the ladies on their picnic blankets and bowed in greeting, while Wilson introduced him to the ladies. When he went back to his clients, Azura came up to James and grabbed his drawing.

"Oh, how beautifully you paint." her voice dripping with sarcasm.  
"Miss Wilson."  
"Hmm, unfortunately you made a mistake", she spat out and it ran coldly down his spine for a moment. He knew, she meant more than the picture in her hands.  
"I think not." he returned briefly and reached for the paper.  
"Yes. We are seven, not six."

At this moment the ladies whispered even more and Stringers stomach turned for a moment. How bad that he had missed someone! He counted and checked the ladies off in his mind as he couldn't look at his drawing as Azura was still holding it in her hands. They all turned around slightly. 

"That's because you're always hiding." Azura called out to the person who seemed to be sitting behind all the others. And handed her Stringer's sketchpad.  
"I ain't."  
"But otherwise James would have known you were there."  
Azura flashed at him for a moment before she continued to speak sharply so that the last idiot would understand that something had happened between them.  
"He knows everything."

"I think the weather's changing," Wilson shoutet at that moment and everyone started to get up and knock the sand off their clothes. Azura grabbed the drawings from the hand of the woman he had overlooked and stomped towards him with big steps. He had only eyes for her, everything else disapeared. Her greenish blue eyes were dark and sparkled with the fire that was glowing inside her. Angry she slapping the drawing pad against his chest.

"I won't help you!" she she whispered and it sounded like a threat. 

With an uncomfortable feeling he went in the direction of the almost forgotten lady, who had turned away from him. She was still almost invisible in an almost sand-coloured dress, and feverishly James thought about what he could say. A small gust of wind came and whirled sand into his eyes. When he looked up again, all the ladies had already walked up the path from the beach. While he was still rubbing his eyes, he noticed a flying drawing paper folding around and grabbed it, expecting it to be one of his, he wanted to put it away, as his gaze wandered briefly above it and he froze.

It was a drawing of him.


	5. invisible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few things won't let James rest. He is a little homesick for a future he cannot yet see. But he accept new tasks and make new acquaintances.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're on the home stretch of this little story. Hope you like it.

The following days passed like all the other days before. Getting up at dawn, going to the university with Wilson, studying, coming back for a late lunch and later going to the construction site. Tired after an extensive dinner and exhausting conversations and too much wine and Wilson's cigars falling into bed. But always only when he had taken the drawing in his hand again and looked for some clue on the sheet, but he didn't find it. In any case, the one who had painted it was very talented she had not only brought out the shadows under his eyes but also the pattern of his scarf in an excellent way. He had the feeling that he might have missed something, but he didn't know what it was. Maybe he should just forget the whole incident.

Azura, on the other hand, could not forget it and let him feel again and again how badly she was hurt for her friend.

"What were you thinking?" she shouted to him once over the table at breakfast.  
"I didn't mean..." he started, but Azura interrupted him while she slowly stood up like a cat that wanted to fight.  
"It just shows that you men think you can do whatever you want." she snorted. 

"Miss Wilson." James tried to avoid a scene, hoping no one would notice the argument.

"She's one of the finest people I know, she doesn't deserve to be overlooked!" she bent over the table and her eyes dripped with rage as she spat, "Especially not by someone like you!"

Even though her words stabbed into that nasty little doubting part of him, he ignored it.

"It was not my intention to overlook her." 

James explained, pushing his fingers frustrated through his hair, the curls grew thicker and longer. Azura's fingers itched to reach for it but, of course, she denied herself that moment of weakness, not wanting him to realize that he was having that effect on her. And all her friends, even the married Mrs Williams and her own stepmother found his curls extremely charming. Annoyed that he could distract her like that, she hit the table with her flat hand.

"And yet I have a feeling you will continue to do so." Her voice was a menacing whisper, and her eyes flashed angrily.

James stood up, simply to avoid anyone noticing this little interlude, and asked in a quiet tone,  
"Maybe you can just introduce me to her?"  
"I told you I won't help you!" she cried, straightened up and was about to leave the dining room.  
"I know that if I know her, I will never not see her."

Azura laughed disparagingly and turned to him again,  
"You think you know and see everything," she said accusingly. James moaned annoyed.  
"But you only see what you want to see" she left the room with a thud.

James was left standing befuddled next to the table and did not know, what to do.

"I have a new job for you!" Wilson told him one morning after breakfast and waved him into his study.  
"Thank you, what is it?" it was still strange for James to use Wilson’s first name, so he tried to avoid it.  
"A friend and his wife are moving into an old villa in a few months, it's all finished, but not the garden." 

Wilson rolled his eyes and handed Stringer some drawings. James looked at him questioningly, waiting for a more detailed explanation.

"This will be your project. You are in charge, even if your hands are tied as far as the floor plan is concerned," he laughed and poured himself a glass of wine,  
"Of course I'm at your disposal for any questions." adding with a pompous gesture, "my study is yours if you need it."

Slightly disappointed to be just an assistant to another architect, James forced himself to smile.

"La Contessa, has a mind of her own," Wilson noted amusedly, "and there you see some rough drafts." he pointed to the papers in front of them. "But of course they're all just ideas."

"So my job is to..." Stringer began, but was immediately interrupted by Wilson, who finished his sentence, "Drawings, plans and models for the garden buildings, calculation, then supervise the work." he took a sip, “That’s the best part of it.” he laughed.

Stringer looked at him in amazement and gratefully accepted the glass of wine offered to him.  
Wilson misinterpreted his expression and encouraged him.

"I know you are ready for it!" he tapped him on the shoulder, encouragingly,  
"I have assigned you my most capable and hardworking people." he handed him another plan.

"That's your budget, which can't be exceeded, and the time schedule." he grinned.  
“So my first sketches latest on Friday?”  
Wilson looked at him with a raised eyebrow and Stringer improved with a grin,  
"Thursday, I mean."

"Here's the ground plan of the garden." Wilson said and thumped so hard with his glass at James that it nearly fell out of his hand.  
"There's a small Roman bath here." he pointed to a square at the back of the garden.  
Impressed, Stringer looked at the already fairly detailed plan and nodded approvingly.

"I'd say you'll look at it this afternoon, measure it, you know what to do, and as soon as you have the first drafts, bring them to me and we'll look over it."

"Thank you." James was happy and smiled with delight when Wilson nodded his approval.

Although he already knew all this from his earlier works, it was different to be solely responsible for such an important thing. La Contessa. That means her husband was an Earl! He could not believe that he was allowed to create something for such high people. The memory of his grumbling father nourished the small doubt whether this was really the way for him or whether he should just stay with the things he was born into.

One Sunday Azura and Mrs Wilson got another visit from their friends and when Stringer could hear the chatter and laughter his heart leapt as he hoped to apologize to what he called in his head 'the invisible lady'. He ran down the stairs from his room before he had worked out the exact words, and when he came into the parlour, he just barely brushed his hair from his face in embarrassment when the ladies' giggling stopped and six pairs of eyes stared at him as if he were an unwanted intruder, which he probably was.

The six women looked charming, but a little stiff, as if they were a well composed painting. In their colourful robes they sat facing each other on the sofas and armchairs. Azura stood, in the middle of the window, like the centre, which was to captivate the eye of the beholder. And it did, the sun breaking through the window behind her made her blue dress shine even brighter and James got all the words stuck in his throat when he saw her.

"Stringer!" cried Wilson, who appeared behind him just at that moment, and saved him from the embarrassed silence that had spread throughout the room.  
"We'll leave the ladies their tea and have a proper drink," Wilson said as he turned to the ladies and greeted them briefly.

As Stringer was about to leave the room behind Wilson, he bowed to the ravishing sight before him, only noticing too late in the corner of his eye 'the invisible lady', who was again standing slightly hidden behind an easel, apparently to make a drawing of the women in front of her. She avoided his gaze.

The rest of the day Stringer was kept so busy by Wilson and the plans for the first his first construction models, so he had no opportunity to get in touch with the ladies again.  
When he later came out of Wilson's study slightly befogged by all the wine and cigars, the ladies were running straight down the stairs. He caught a glimpse of 'the invisible lady' while the others, absorbed in conversation, hurried down the stairs with quick steps. But she walked slowly, with almost sublime steps behind them. She would have disappeared at the next landing in the next moment but Stringer couldn't think of any words he could have said or rather called out through the stairway.

James could only see the contrast to their brief encounter on the beach. Had she been basically invisible there in the sand-coloured dress and had not attracted his attention because she had hidden and was so quietly, she was now a slightly enraptured apparition. The dark walls of the staircase behind her looked like a forest in the shade, and she looked like an unexpected sunbeam breaking through the treetops on a dark rainy day. He followed her fascinated with his gaze and the shame of staring at her slowly crept up his neck, but he could not help himself and just could not avert his eyes. James gasped for breath as she looked up at him with an indescribable glance before she disappeared like the others into the dark of the entrance hall. 

In order to create the designs and later the models in peace and quiet and without prying eyes, and also to avoid Azura who still looked at him with a snide look, James worked mainly in his room. However, it became almost unbearably warm on some afternoons and so he was glad that the outdoor work could start soon. Jo, Paolo and Giovanni and two or three stooges had already begun planting in that part of the garden that the new mistress wanted to make wild and untouched.

Stringer's main task was to supervise the work of the others and to help out here and there. The design on the inside of a temple-like pavilion, in the middle of the garden, was extravagant and the pride of the new lady of the house, as Wilson had told him. So James felt obliged to put the panels himself. It was so warm that he took off his scarf and wiped the sweat from his brow before he carelessly threw it beside him.

The pergola on the terrace provided enough shade for the workers during their meal breaks and whenever the water carrier came by they met there for a short break. It was a new ritual that they all met there and enjoyed the meals they brought with them. James felt so comfortable with them that he often forgot that he was actually their boss at the moment.

In the second week he noticed that the only one who didn't join her small group was the taciturn Jo. James saw Jo disappearing through the arcade at the end of the garden into the place where the small Roman bath was located and was about to go after Jo when Paolo grabbed his arm.

"Just let the boy go," he said and waved.  
"That strange skinny boy," Giovanni said before he unwrapped his food and offered it to the others.  
"Oh, stop it", Paolo said again, "he just doesn't want to spoil our dinner!"  
Giovanni nodded eagerly and handed James a piece of bread.

"With his ugly face!" muttered Giovanni, who was about to throw a piece of fruit in his mouth.  
"What happened to him?" asked James and looked in the direction Jo had disappeared and was ashamed of the others' words.  
"Nobody knows, he never takes off his scarf."  
"And always eats alone."

James had a guilty conscience and he decided to go and see Jo the next day and slowly integrate him into the group, even if the sight of him would disturb the others, nobody should eat alone. He knew from his own experience how painful it was to be lonely.

But Jo did not eat alone James had to realize this on one of the following days. Azura, who was sitting next to Jo at the edge of the basin, must have gotten to this place through the back garden gate. In order not to disturb the couple, who claimed to be just friends, he disappeared unnoticed. The stabbing pain he had expected to feel did not come and he was relieved about it.

When he knew for sure that Azura wouldn't come since she had gone to Venice with her father and stepmother, he went to see Jo again.

Slowly he approached Jo, who was sitting on the edge of the Roman pool, turned away from him, and was lost in thought, turning over the pages of a book. James imagined a badly disfigured face, covered with scars, to prepare him self of the sight. So as not to take Jo by surprise, he stopped a few steps away and said a quick hello. Immediately Jo tore up the scarf and the whole figure seemed to stiffen.

"Forgive me, I just thought you could eat with us."  
Jo shook the head and began to put away the book and the brought along food and got up. 

"You shouldn't go! I just didn't want you to be alone."  
"It’s fine.” Jo murmured almost inaudibly and went back to work.

But James now went to Jo almost every day, who didn't take off the scarf, but at least didn't leave James standing there again. James even sat down and tried a conversation. But Jo didn't really say anything but Stringer was sure it would not be long before Jo dared to take off the scarf in front of him to eat.

When James went up to his room one Saturday night after dinner, he was already opening his tie on the stairs. Annoyed, he threw it away and put the candle on his table. Then he let himself fall heavily onto his bed and thought. 

Today he had received mail. A letter from Robinson was among them, he had written to him that all the works in Sanditon would probably be finished this autumn and that he too was invited to the big festivities. Not only the old colleagues, but of course the Parkers, whose youngest member will be born soon, would be delighted to come.  
Of course he was glad to have left the Parkers, the Heywoods and Sanditon behind him, but he now felt something like homesickness. Not necessarily for that place on the English coast where he had lost his father and somehow his youth, but somehow for family. He was now of that age and position to have one himself, but there was nobody. 

Sighing, he sat up again and thought of the words of Pete Ravenshore, whose letter he had left unopened on his desk, and bent down to pick up his tie, which had carelessly fallen to the floor. He wrapped it around his hand and then laid it on the table next to the candle. He wondered whether he should open the letter from Pete Ravenshore, with whom he had remained in contact as well as with the Edwards, or wait until tomorrow. His eyes fell on the almost forgotten drawing from the beach.

By the flickering of the candle, it seemed as if his hair and scarf were moving in the wind and he smiled at the thought of the really talented artist. He shook his head in disbelief that after all this weeks he still hadn't had a chance to apologize to 'the invisible woman'. He hadn't seen her for eighteen days. And strangely enough, his stomach was tugging at the knowledge.

Suddenly the realization crawled up his back. His scarf! The trip to the beach had been on a Sunday, so he had worn his fine white tie. But in the drawing he was shown with his neckerchief, which he always wore at work. He grinned as the knowledge stretched as a warm feeling in his chest. Azura had painted him! For she was the only one who knew him in his work clothes and therefore also the scarf, only somehow he could not really be happy about this realization.

"You're so cocky!" she laughed as he confronted her after breakfast the next morning and followed her out into the garden. She disappeared into the ‘Sculpture Labyrinth’, which was just a path hidden behind a pink flowering bushes, where some of the Roman deities were lined up.

"But only you saw me at work" he said.  
"Oh yeah?" she stopped at a sculpture of Amor and grinned cheekily, "and give me a reason why I should draw you?"  
"That's obvious." he looked briefly at Amor and then walked a step closer to her.  
"Not for me." she turned and ran further into the shadows of the other deities, and at the height of Veritas, turned to him so suddenly that he almost ran into her. 

How fitting that she should stop at the Goddess of Truth, James thought and noted in a firm voice.

"The same reason why you kissed me."

"Oh that, I just felt like it at the time."  
Azura she made a discarding gesture and her eyes flashed. 

He laughed briefly and shook his head, because the urge to tease her was not as overwhelming as he had imagined a few hours ago. After all, he only wanted to pretend that he wanted to kiss her, but he definitely did not like her enough to want to do it.  
She grinned slightly as he lowered his head and she glanced briefly to his lips before looking him in the eyes again.

But a startled gasping made them immediately step away from each other and look in the direction of the sound. Next to Amor stood for a blink of an eye 'the invisible woman' in a pale green dress that shimmered slightly golden in the sun as she ran away.

"This is your fault," Azura cried out in horror and pushed him in the chest before running after her friend, probably to keep her from telling Wilson about this unacceptable behaviour.

Stringer made himself invisible. He avoided any contact with Azura since that day. She apparently convinced her friend not to report the encounter in the garden to anyone. James only left his room when she was already gone or still sleeping. When she was having breakfast in the dining room, he would just take the packed lunch the cook had prepared for him and disappear. He was the first at the university and the last at the villa. He told Wilson he didn't want to make any mistakes, and that was true.

"You're a good man!" Wilson shouted and patted him on the back, but James sometimes doubted it.

Azura also rarely came by to have lunch with Jo and so James had the opportunity to sit with Jo from time to time and silently eat his lunch. He had stopped trying to persuade Jo to join the others by now, because Jo hadn't even taken off the scarf in his presence or eaten in front of him during all those weeks.

The narrow, tanned hands lay motionless on the bench most of the time, or holding a book in the hand whose title James couldn't read, which seemed to be Italian. The conversation was always one-sided, because apart from a nod, a short yes or no, Jo didn't say much. But the silence and the peace he felt near Jo's presence made him talk about himself. He told Jo about his father and the news he got from Sanditon. He only mentioned Azura briefly, but noticed that Jo flinched slightly every time he mentioned her name.

"I'm sorry," mumbled James, knowing how painful it was to be in love with someone who didn't return those feelings, hoping it would show Jo that they weren't so different.

"Hmm?"  
"Well, Azura and you..."  
"We're just friends." it was just a murmur.  
"Yes, but..."  
"No buts." Jo got up and walked a few steps away from James, his tanned hands clenched in little fists.  
"Things are not always what they seem." Jo explained in a clear voice and James froze in his motion for that was the longest sentence he had ever heard Jo say.

When James came home from the construction site one evening, where he had been working alone for the last few hours, he noticed that Wilson had some guests and wanted to disappear unseen into his room when he called him in. Wilson then grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to some important people and introduced them to each other. He praised James in his typical exuberant manner and did not see how uncomfortable he felt. Azura seemed to ignore him completely, as she walked past him on a man's arm. Relieved about it James managed to sneak into the dining room to eat something and avoid the company. 

Even though the guests were crowded together, nobody took much notice of him as he made his way through them to the refreshments. The glass of wine that was literally calling out to him, he had already almost surrounded the glass with his hand when he slightly touched the fingers of a lady dressed in delicate lace.

"Forgive me." he said, gazing into a friendly face.

The bright eyes of the woman in front of him briefly lowered onto the fingers that almost touched and then quickly pulled them away to hide them in the folds of her dress, which was the same pale pink colour as the skin of her cheeks.

"It’s fine."

Her eyes lifted back to his and suddenly he felt a strange sensation. Those eyes, that pale golden face, that timid smile. He was sure. It was her ‘the invisible lady’ at last.

"Miss, may I address the word to you?" he asked, hoping that it was alright for her to be addressed in such a vulgar way by him.  
"Of course, Mr Stringer," she lowered her eyes and her lips formed a charming smile. Why that suddenly made his heart pump faster, was surely due to a long overdue apology.

"I've been wanting to apologize to you for a long time," it gushed out of him and she closed her eyes briefly and nodded.  
"I didn't mean to overlook you, I'm so very sorry."  
"It's my own fault."  
"But no, the fault is all mine," he contradicted excitedly and almost grabbed her hand, but she still had it hidden in the folds of her skirt. She shook her head and looked at him with enchanting little laugh lines around her eyes, conspiratorially lowering her voice and leaning a little closer to him, but strangely it was not close enough for him.

"My aunts always told me to make myself invisible..."  
"But why?" he interrupted her and almost felt he'd insulted her. "Please forgive me."

"Look at me," and she immediately lowered her eyes and her cheeks turned a lovely pink.  
"I do." James didn't know why he had said that, because her cheeks turned even darker.  
"So... oh, gee, that's not what I meant. Oh, God!" she put a hand on her forehead and shook her head slightly in despair. James was so taken with her that he couldn't say anything at first, but then he mumbled,  
"What did you mean?" 

But she could not answer him, for Mrs Wilson pressed to James' side, she whispered slightly tipsy to him, "It's because she's almost as tall as a man" giggling she slapped playfully at the lady's arm, pretend to be sulking.

"This is where you hid, Marjorie!"

"I've just been talking to Mr Stringer," Marjorie replied, and in the look she gave him there was something desperate.

"Oh, that's fine, I was going to introduce you anyway." Mrs Wilson grabbed Stringer's arm and leaned towards him, "She can help you with Italian for your exams."

"Oh?" Stringer didn't know why all of a sudden he couldn't speak his brain was kind of in a cloud. Maybe he had already had one too many drinks?

"I just wanted to give you a heads up." Mrs Wilson whispered to her friend as a murmur went around the room and Mr Wilson stood on a chair to be seen by all the guests. Azura with many other guests in front of him.

"Ladies and gentlemen, dear friends," he paused artificially until everyone turned to him and stared at the covered painting that was standing on an easel next to him. But James did not look up to Wilson. He just couldn't take his eyes off a thin strand of golden hair that lay on an elegantly curved neck. It seemed to tickle Marjorie as she stroked her delicate hand over it before shaky fingers nibbled on the frilly edge of her dress.

"I ask you all to applaud for the gift of a friend", his gaze wandered around the room until he had discovered her, with a sweeping gesture he pointed in her direction.  
"The incredibly talented..."

James saw the blush moving down her neck over the throbbing pulse. She was obviously terribly uncomfortable being the centre of attention and he wanted to take her hand. He leaned a little closer to say something encouraging to her but the words got stuck in his throat once again and he felt his own pulse throb as he heard the rest of Wilson's speech.

"The grandly Miss Ravenshore."

Ravenshore. Pete Ravenshore’s daughter. James could not believe it. Hadn't he just replied to his letter accepting his offer? Fate really did have strange ways sometimes. James shook his head and hardly noticed what happened at the other end of the room.

Wilson tore the cloth off the painting in a dramatic gesture and the thunderous applause of the guests showed that James was not alone in his opinion. The picture that showed the six ladies in the parlour was simply stunning.

Some of the guests who were close by congratulated Miss Ravenshore, who modestly accepted the praise, and secretly looked over her shoulder at James. He was so entranced by the sight of her that he almost didn't hear what Mrs Wilson said.

"A wonderful gift for Azura."  
"Thank you." she graciously returned.  
"It'll be awfully boring," complained Mrs Wilson "I'll miss you both terribly."  
"Come on Grace, Azzura lives just fifteen minutes from here..." her light laugh touched his heart.  
"I know but you're so far away." Grace dabbed her eyes.  
"Yes, but you knew my visit would end eventually. And my aunt wants me back." The expression on her face distracted James from the actual thought of what it meant that Azura would soon live fifteen minutes here.

Then Wilson's loud dominant voice grabbed everyone's attention again. He asked those present to go into the garden where something special was waiting. He raised his glass and called to Azura and the gentleman at her side.

"Hooray for you two!" 

Everybody had a sip. James also tipped the wine down in one. He wasn't sad or hurt, just amazed because he had not been told. Perhaps he was invisible in this house after all. Just another guest, he was glad his time here was soon over.

As they all left the room and crowded together to find a way into the garden, he caught the concerned gaze of Miss Ravenshore, who looked back at him over the heads of the other guests. Then she nodded slightly to him with a tiny smile before she disappeared into the crowd. 

He felt infinitely alone at that moment.


	6. Examination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stringer has to prepare for his examination.  
> Not only in work, also in his life...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took a little longer, but I wanted to finish his remaining time in Italy with this chapter.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

He wanted to stay unseen and instead of going into the garden to watch the festivities like everyone else, Stringer was left alone in the dining room. He tried to let the peace flow into him and to order his thoughts. Miss Ravenshore. Marjorie. Who would have thought meeting her here? Somehow, he felt she was the link to….home. 

He smiled softly and walked slowly towards the window. He looked down into the garden where the guests walked, talked and laughed among the flower arrangements and torches. In larger groups, four or three. A few couples. He could also observe the one or other stolen kiss between them. A small pulling pain pulled shrilly at his heartstrings.

He knew that gnawing dull throb. He was back in Sanditon for a while. The regatta. He closed his eyes and took a short breath. James was jealous, yes of the happy people... he longed for... yes, for what exactly? He shook off the thought and when the crowd down in the garden shouted with enthusiasm, he saw a small orchestra at the back of the garden taking their places on a small specially built stage and started to play a piece.

The music was cheerful and brought a broad smile to his face and he let his gaze wander over the crowd below him. The laughter, some clapping to the beat of the music, made him forget his gloomy thoughts. He suddenly felt like dancing. Leaning on the windowsill, he watched the people and rejoiced with them. His gaze followed them and got stuck in the 'Sculpture Labyrinth', where a single figure moved between the sculptures. Alone. In astonishment he watched the pale-pink figure dancing like an unreal being from a dream in the flickering light of the torches. Elven-like she turned around herself, light as a feather. No, more like a soft copper coloured leaf in the light autumn wind. A leaf in the wind. A piece of paper in the wind!

A thought formed in his head, but before he could finish it properly, glasses clinked and he turned to the noise. A tray full of glasses had slipped out of a servant's hand. The servant apologised and then cleared up the pile of broken glass, and so as not to disturb him at work, Stringer was drawn to the sounds in the garden. As if he was being pulled out by an invisible ribbon, almost an undertow.

James searched his way between people who didn't really notice him and found himself in the ‘Sculpture Labyrinth’. He knew what he had to do and walked with determination towards one of the sculptures he suspected. He would like to tell her that he would work for her father. And ask her…he stopped in the move.

She had stopped dancing and stood there with her head in her neck, staring at the sky. She was glowing in the dancing firelight.

"A starry night," he remarked in a soft voice, not wanting to frighten her.  
"Beautiful, isn't it?" she asked without averting her eyes from the sky.  
"Yes, it is." and let his gaze rest on her neck for a moment before he followed her example and looked up into the starry night sky as well. 

"It reminds me of home," she muttered, and her voice seemed sad, "only it was somehow further along, there are too many trees blocking your view."

"That's right.” admitted James, who again felt a strange urge to take her hand, but again, of course, he did not. 

"The painting is beautiful," he said, and she looked over at him. 

"Thank you, Mr Stringer."  
"I'm sorry we were interrupted earlier..." he admitted and smiled at her. 

The fire from the torch rammed into the ground beside her cast a golden shadow across her figure. And her cheeks glowed reddishly in the light of the flame.

"Yes," and her timid smile gave him the feeling that she would have liked to talk to him further. "I am quite tall for a woman." She explained and smiled properly.

"I can see." 

Did he admit, and in contrast to the somewhat embarrassed recognition earlier in the dining room, they just looked at each other. As if they were communicating without words and James felt very strange, light and heavy at the same time. He walked one step closer to her and he saw her eyes widen slightly.

The small orchestra now played a light melody. Quiet somehow. 

"I know your father," he said, and suddenly the strange breeze that had just brought him one step closer disappeared. Why had he said that?

"Oh?" she seemed surprised.  
"He's a very nice man." he went on and smiled.  
"Yes, I suppose he is." she muttered and broke eye contact and looked at her hands.  
"I grew up with my aunts." Her voice had taken on a strange sound.  
"I'm umm... sorry.” It sounded like a question.  
"Yes," she laughed heartily for a moment, "so am I."

The choice of words struck him as strange and he was about to ask what she meant when she pointed with her head in the direction from which an elderly lady was coming towards them.

"Marjorie!" she grabbed her arm and watched James who was bowing.  
"Who is this...gentleman?" she asked, giving Stringer a scornful look while seeming annoyed.  
"He knows Father." Marjorie explained as if that was the correct answer.  
"So?" the question was not directed to Miss Ravenshore, but directly to him, and James bowed again and said his name.

"So you live with Wilson?"  
"Yes, Ma'am."  
"Uh-huh." She looked over him once more and raised one eyebrow so high it made a grimace on her face.

"We were talking about Father..." Marjorie tried to explain, but was rudely interrupted.  
"But that doesn't mean you can stand here in the dark with him. Alone."

Marjorie laughed with a snort of "Before that I was alone."

James found her slightly cheeky attitude incredibly charming and smiled mischievously at her. Miss Ravenshore lowered her eyes and suppressed a smile when she told her aunt.

"He is the student I'm supposed to help."

"What? More work?" her aunt asked angrily, "you've been out of the house all day for your…" she made a rambling gesture, "art, and now this..."

"Italian." ended Miss Ravenshore for her aunt and smiled as the older lady turned back to Stringer and eyed him like he was a curiosity.

"But you will come to us for this," she said, and James could only nod in silence. 

"Good night, Mr Stringer." that was an order.  
"Ma'am".

Marjorie's aunt turned around and walked a few steps before turning to the young people "Come on now!"

"Good night, Mr Stringer." Marjorie’s voice was almost a whisper and he saw her heated face, so close in front of him. She had a small scar on her chin.  
"Good night, Miss Ravenshore." their eyes remained fixed for a moment before she got a strange look on her face.

"I am sorry about Azura." Her timid smile was meant to comfort him, though he needed no comfort, but before he could answer, she had disappeared with her aunt into the shadows of the night.

After a far too short night, Stringer woke up with too many thoughts. His head was throbbing and he was rubbing his temples to wake up properly. A plan. He needed a plan. He couldn't afford to get bogged down in all the things he had to do. James wrote down on a piece of paper the things he had to do. He had to instruct his colleagues at the gardening site what to do so that he might only have to come by once a day and then he would have more time to prepare for his exams. He would have to work on his language skills at least so far that he did could understand the tasks during the exams. Mr Wilson had promised him to simulate an exam situation with him, but until then he had to improve. 

James thought for a moment about what it would be like to learn with Miss Ravenshore, whether she had gained enough knowledge from her father and to help him translate construction plans? At least she had knowledge about art and colours that would definitely help. His heart was beating with excitement. He could not believe that his time here was soon over and that he would return to England. He only hoped that he would pass all the exams he had to face.

It was a lazy Sunday and when he went out into the garden to touch up his drawings of the bathhouses he had to redo for Azura. The Contessa, who she thought she was even before her wedding, suddenly didn't like the sketches anymore, and since he only had a little time left before it had to be finished, he worked through the whole afternoon.  
Grace and Stephen Wilson walked through the garden and came to him as he sat in the short grass trying to come up with some grand idea for the bathhouses, but his mind kept drifting back to the last evening.

"Perhaps you should ask Marjorie," said Mrs Wilson, "she can render floral motifs so realistically, perhaps you can make Azura happy with them." she smiled encouragingly. 

"When are you going to see her?" she then asked curiously and Stephen smiled mischievously at his wife then Stringer.  
"We haven't settled that yet, only that I should go to her aunt's house."  
"Oh yes my boy, then she can watch you!" 

Wilson laughed like he had made a great joke. His wife touched his arm and then nodded to Stringer. "I'll write to them so you know when you can go."

"Thank you, Mrs Wilson," Stringer said sincerely.

It only took a few days for the new routine to settle in. Stringer was at the university, went home to study and in the late afternoon to the construction site. But there everything went according to plan. The workers had finished with the pagoda and the pavilion was finished, too. Wilson had now assigned the men to another project and Stringer should finish the last things by himself. The desired changing room next to the Roman pool still caused him some headaches. The design of his other proposals had not pleased the Contessa, and he had to come up with something else to satisfy her. He would ask Miss Ravenshore when he went to her for the first time next Sunday.

Although Jo was not quite done with the planting next to the basin, he assisted James when necessary. They worked in peace and Stringer could learn vocabulary by asking Jo about tools and building materials in Italian. Jo was still silent and too intimidated to take off his scarf even though the other workers were no longer there. Stringer asked him several times but only got a shake of his head in reply.

James decided not to press Jo any further, if he didn't take off his scarf and hat even in these almost unbearably hot temperatures, he couldn't force him to. He, on the other hand, tore the scarf from his neck immediately and wiped the sweat from his forehead. 

They took breaks at different times to eat or drink something and James agreed. His mind sometimes not whirled around the exams and vocabulary but wandered more than once to Miss Ravenshore. He looked forward to seeing her again.

On Sunday, he was at Miss Ravenshore’s home for the first time. The drawing room was covered with detailed motives of different plants, flowers and landscapes. While waiting for the ladies, he watched the drawings and felt like he was on a journey. From a dense dark green forest with gentle yellow hills to the turquoise waves of a stormy sea, everything was there. He stopped in front of a painting of cypresses and marvelled at the detailed representation.

"Botany."

Startled, he looked up at the door in which Miss Ravenshore's aunt stood and gazed at him as if he were an unwanted insect on her precious carpet. He bowed and looked at her questioningly.

"That and painting..." 

"And languages." Marjorie's voice came to his ear and the smile that her appearance conjured on his face he really couldn't suppress. In her pale blue dress, she looked like a fresh cool morning on the shore.

They then sat down at a large table, where she spread out the plans that James was allowed to take from Mr Wilson, on which all the descriptions were in Italian. Miss Ravenshore, after they had greeted each other, spoke only in the melodic language of his present home and he thought to himself he could listen to her for hours. She pretended not to understand him when anything was said in English. She forced him to think about it and to descriptions with the vocabulary he already knew and so he slowly got one step closer to all terms. 

Unfortunately, they could hardly speak in private, because Mrs Miller, as her aunt was called, watched them all the time, even if she closed her eyes and made sounds as if she had fallen asleep, they felt observed.

Stringer had an urgent need to convince Marjorie that he was not sad that Azura was marrying. Though he knew it was an unseemly topic, he determined to get rid of it. He waited until Miss Ravenshore brought him to the door and was glad that they could be alone for a moment. 

"Miss Ravenshore... I'd like to talk to you about..."

She looked at him expectantly, with her open bright eyes whose colour had taken on a strange hue. It seemed like the jewellery her aunt always wore that she called jade, a very pale green. He had never seen such eyes before, because depending on the sunlight they sometimes looked almost yellow...

"Yes Mr Stringer?" Curiously she looked at him and he was briefly distracted and forgot the sentence he wanted to say to her and could only say the name. "Azura."

She flinched for a moment and he saw her whole posture stiffening. Her smile was a bit forced and she turned her gaze away from his eyes. 

"I'm sorry for you." She played with her hands and her gaze cooled somehow.  
"But I told you to watch your back."

He looked at her curious because he couldn't remember that. She bit her lip and her cheeks returned to that lovely bright pink. She curtsied slightly and turned away so quickly that James could only hear the clacking of her footsteps in the hall before he could wonder about these statements even more.

So the next week went by and he always locked himself in his room to study, telling Jo that he could only come by in the evening because he had so much to learn, but silent Jo was even more silent and almost seemed as if he didn't really care what Stringer was doing anyway. As if just the thought of seeing Miss Ravenshore again would get him through the week, the days flew by so quickly and before he knew it, it was Sunday again and he was with her. 

Unfortunately, they hardly found a moment alone and that annoyed him immensely as he had the feeling that something was bothering her. As they were brooding over one of the plans and he said something wrong and then got angry with himself, she grabbed his hand and squeezed it lightly. The squatting over this outrageous but welcome physical contact, she pulled her lace-gloved hand away and blushed so charmingly that it made Stringer's heart incredibly light.

He wanted to tell her something without her aunt noticing and leaned a little closer, but that seemed to surprise her so much that she jumped up from her chair and threw down some books that were lying on the table next to the plans.

Curiously, her aunt looked up, who then kept her eyes on them as they picked up the fallen books. 

"I'm sorry." He muttered to her and she gave him one of her timid smiles and took the books to a nearby chest of drawers. Stringer saw a pressed orange flower she had apparently put in one of the books on the floor and picked it up. A light fresh scent was still on it and instead of returning the blossom to her, he placed it in his folder with his drawings. He didn't know exactly why he had done that, but he couldn't bring himself to take it out again later, that would have been too embarrassing somehow.

"Jo, can I ask you something?" Stringer asked his colleague at one point.

Jo nodded silently and turned back to his work. Stringer came a few steps closer and then fanned out straight.  
"Since you're friends with Azura, " he saw Jo stiffening briefly, but he just kept on talking, "do you happen to know her friend Miss Ravenshore?"

Jo sat back on his heels and looked at Stringer nodding slowly.

"I hmm ...I don't know." James drove through those thick curls and moaned.  
"I have a strong urge to tell her something, but I don't know how."  
"What?" Jo asked and turned back to his work, but did nothing but push a few crumbs from left to right.  
"Oh, well, I... she's probably thinking I'm sad Azura's getting married."

He looked at Jo, who was just looking at him, and James took that as a sign to keep talking.  
"She saw us, and... well, it may have looked like I was going to kiss her, but that was never the plan."

Jo was silent. 

"I was teasing Azura because I thought she had drawn me..."

Jo remained silent and just shrugged his shoulders.

"Oh I really don't know, it's so... so... so strange."  
"What?" Jo asked interested after all.  
"I feel like I …I cheated on her…."  
"Who?"  
"Marjorie." When he said it, Stringer suddenly knew. He moaned and stared up at the sky.

"What?"  
"Oh, nothing, I just realized something."

Jo looked at him and made a gesture that made Stringer keep talking, but, by then, his mind was already somewhere else.

But then Stringer had to concentrate on the essentials and barely four days later he was sitting in his first test. They had to calculate building materials for a construction site and were not allowed to exceed a certain budget. Stringer knew this was his strength and approached the task with composure.

Unfortunately, the upcoming study with Miss Ravenshore was the last one, because not only did he have more exams in the coming weeks, for which he had to be fully concentrated every free minute, but he had also learned that she would return home one week after Azura's wedding.

"I am sorry to hear that..." he dared to say embarrassed and smiled at her, although he really regretted it very much. 

He didn't know when or if he would ever see her again. She smiled this enchanting open smile, which he had been getting a lot more often lately, and his heart lifted again so easily. As light as when he was a boy and went to a building site with his father for the first time and could look over the other houses from the roof. With an unknown tingling in his stomach.

"Where will you live?" he asked, hoping the question wasn't too impertinent.  
"In London at my aunt and uncle's." She returned.  
"Not with you father?" the question made his voice take on a somewhat strange tone. 

"Yes, I'll mainly be with him then." she got a longing look and then said, "his country estate is beautiful. I love the gardens there."

"I don't know much about the project yet, but..."  
"The cottages?" she asked excitedly.  
"Yes," explained Stringer to her, and saw how Marjorie seemed pleased about it.

"Perhaps we could ... travel back to England together." She said then, blushing so much that even James had to lower his eyes when the thought occurred to him that she must really like him if she really considered his company.

"Absolutely not!" cried Mrs Miller, who had sneaked up on them unnoticed.  
"But Auntie..."  
"Mr Stringer will be staying longer, won't he?" That was not really a question. 

"I'm just waiting for my exam results and then I'll go back, too." 

He explained, and his inner voice told him that Mrs Miller saw the insect in him as he felt under her gaze.

The next few days dragged on under the stingy sun. And Stringer took out his frustration on the bathhouse, which he wanted to finally finish that day. He was so happy to be alone. Well, not completely alone, but Jo was so quiet and almost invisible while he cleaned up next to the Roman bath. Jo had finished his work today, too. 

Stringer tried to fix the roof of the bathhouse and cried for help. Of course Jo came immediately and handed Stringer the material he needed. They worked silently side by side.  
James thanked him and took a sip of drink while Jo cooled his arms in the water in the pool. 

James was sweating so much when he set up the wooden bench in the bathhouse, where the heat was quite stagnant, that he took off his shirt without further ado and cooled down a bit.  
After a while he was done and happy about that run out of the small cabin.

"Jo, would you...?"  
But then James heard a short astonished sound and then the splashing of water.

"Jo?" Jo had fallen into the water of the roman bath and Stringer ran over to help him out of the water. As Jo’s hat floated in the water, Stringer prepared himself for a frightening sight.

He knelt down and reached out his hand, Jo’s long light hair hiding his face and he turned his head away to hide it. But Stringer was prepared for whatever was coming and grabbed Jo by the shoulder and pulled him out of the water. 

And the sight made all the air escape from his lungs.

The acceptance of the garden had taken place without him, as he had his last exam that day. When he came home later, the Wilsons had arranged a small party. Mr Wilson assured him again and again that he had nothing to worry about, although he could not officially tell him yet whether he had mastered his exams.

Azura's wedding was the first Stringer had ever attended, and when the lengthy ceremony was finally over, he was glad to finally be able to take refreshment. The tension of the last weeks had been so enormous that he had completely forgotten that this great event was about to happen.

The bride was beautiful, of course. She drew everyone's attention to her and put everyone in the shade next to her. It was obvious. Only not to him. Marjorie was her maid of honour, and in a lilac dress that emphasized her delicate beauty, she was a thousand times more beautiful to him than the bride. He hadn't had a chance to talk to her. Her eyes met from time to time, but she seemed to avoid him and always disappeared unseen as he slowly walked in her direction. 

He wanted to talk to her urgently. But he had no choice but to go through what he wanted to tell her again and again in his room in the evening.

The candle flickered in the light wind that blew through the open window into his room. James tried to put his thoughts on paper and couldn't find the right words. He pulled the book she had probably read last and opened it. He took out the still lightly scented orange blossom and breathed in its delicate scent.

Then he pulled the leather bag towards him and pulled out the pile of her sketches. Flowers and leaves, a study of tree bark, a drawing of hands. His hands. Smiling and with tears in his eyes he compared the drawing with the drawing from the beach. 

How much she liked him, that she had drawn him so precisely and so often? Could it really be possible that she had feelings for him? 

But no, then she wouldn't have lied to him, well she hadn't really lied to him... but she hadn't told the truth either. Why didn't she trust him?

Basically, he knew the answer. Yes, he knew. She was scared. Rightly so, that he would react exactly the way he did. 

He had stood before her slightly dazed, stared at her wordlessly and said nothing. Nothing! He hadn't said anything either when the puzzle was slowly coming together. When she began to cry and looked at him in despair. He had stood there in silence and watched her run away. 

After she got out of the water.


	7. to build a home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stringer is back in England and makes a decision that changes his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to all readers who have read this little story.   
> For your comments, support and kudos.
> 
> The ending I had in mind from the beginning, it makes it more real...
> 
> I hope you enjoy it.

The carriage rumbled across the streets and Stringer was so tired, as he had not been able to sleep properly for days. The outward travel seemed not so long and exhausting to him as the return journey. Maybe it was because he had looked into an open future then and now...well now he had a certain expectation of his future life.

When he finally arrived at the Edwards' house, he was filled with a completely different kind of excitement than on the first evening he had spent here. He climbed up the steps to the door and when he knocked, he suddenly found himself standing in front of Mrs Miller's house again in his memory. In vain, as he did so every day after stumbling across Marjorie's drawings. He wanted to return the folder and apologize to her once again, but he was unfortunate and learned of Azura a little later, who had come by for tea, that she had already gone back to England.

He hoped and feared at the same time that she was there behind that door. But instead the butler opened, led him into the drawing room, and although he was not yet properly in the room, Mrs Edwards took him in her arms unexpectedly. 

"There you are again!" she cried excitedly and wiped away her happy tears. 

His former mentor also took him in his arms and immediately bombarded him, how his exams had turned out, which projects he had worked on and whether Wilson had also left him something where he could prove his strengths.

"Let him arrive first," cried Mrs Edwards, shaking her head and pointing to the stairs, "Jackson, let him rest first after weeks of travel."

"Yes, of course," said her husband, but he insisted on escorting his young guest to the room where he would be staying for the next few days. He kept asking him questions and nodding like a proud father as Stringer gave him a full report. 

"Oh I knew you'd do well," and patted him on the shoulder once more.

"How's old Wilson?" he asked before deciding to leave James alone.

Stringer then gave a brief account of the surprisingly tearful farewell from Grace and Stephen Wilson. But of course, he blamed it on the fact that the daughter of the house had married a few weeks earlier and had left her parents' home.

"No, my boy, I'm sure those two have grown just as fond of you as we have."

James lowered his head briefly, so much praise and affection was almost too much for him.

"Now, come on in and then just come down when you're done." Edwards said to him, who then left him alone.

And like when he first arrived at the Wilson's, he inspected the room. It was much spacious, but of course it had no terrace, only a big window. Instead of looking over houses and bays, the window led to the street. But that made no difference to him. He was grateful.

He said the same to Mrs Edwards at dinner later, but she refused to hear about it and patted his hand instead. 

"Oh, stop it."  
"No, really, Mrs Edwards, I'm just so grateful for everything you've done." 

"You did that all by yourself," said her husband, "your abilities and your will to make something of yourself."   
"Thank you, sir."  
"Now, really!" Edwards seemed displeased and moved a little closer to James,   
"Please, my boy, no more Sir!"

"All right."  
"After all, you are so closely connected with our entire family!"

James almost choked on his drink and looked at him questioningly. 

"Well, I've been your mentor, Pete will train you further..." he took a sip of his own and his wife said, with a slight wink,   
"And you'll have the good fortune to see Marjorie again."

Stringer felt his heart lift, and also his mood, and a smile formed on his face. 

"Is she…is she in London?" he asked reluctantly, hoping the answer would come through the door in the next moment, but Edwards, chewing, said.

"No, she's already with Pete."  
"Oh, well... it's going be a while, then." said Stringer as he poked around listlessly in his food.   
"You'll be able to get through the couple of days."   
"Oh no, that... I didn't mean... I didn't mean..."

"It's all right James," Mrs Edwards then said to put him out of his misery.   
"I can well understand your wanting to see her again."

Oh, it got worse Stringer thought, and closed his eyes briefly.

"She told us, of course, that she taught you Italian." Edwards commented approvingly.  
"And that she had forgotten her drawings somewhere."  
"Yes, I have them with me," James confirmed.  
"That's wonderful!" cried Mrs Edwards then, "It would be lovely if I could look at her work."

James looked at her in slight shock when he thought that every second drawing in the portfolio showed him, and that was not what a young lady should draw after all. His heart was pounding wildly in his chest and he wondered feverishly how he could avoid Mrs Edwards seeing all the drawings.

"Of course, we can look at them tomorrow, James" Mrs Edwards nodded, "today you will rest properly for the first time since weeks." She laughed.

"Thank you, Mrs Edwards." 

After dinner, they took a small walk through the gardens he had built and laid out with the other students. James admired the colourful flowers that grew and how each niche had its own charm and yet everything fitted together so beautifully. 

"This is Marjorie's favourite spot."

As coincidence would have it, it was his garden. And this time, James heard the special tone in Mrs Edward's voice 

"She chose it spontaneously," she explained and James felt a warm feeling in his chest. It was a confirmation that he had not known to seek. But they seemed to have the same taste in many things and he smiled honestly.

"But it really is the most beautiful part of the garden." 

Mrs Edwards said more because she felt James was uncomfortable than she really meant it. She loved the terrace more than anything else because it gave her the best view and she could enjoy the sight of the whole garden. If she had had children of her own, she could have imagined organizing a wedding here. All her hopes lay on her niece, although she doubted that Marjorie would want to marry here in London. It would be too constricted for her open mind and modern thinking.

She hoped fervently she would never return to Mrs Miller and her sister.   
Mrs Edwards was sure that the education and freedom that Pete had allowed her in Italy would have a positive influence on the relationship with her father. And hoped that the two would finally find the right understanding for each other.

Somehow she had a good feeling. A feeling that also James Stringer with his calm, kind nature could help the two of them to be more than the lost father and the abandoned daughter.  
Marjorie deserved a little happiness. More than that…belonging. A sort of family and people who saw her, who noticed her. Not people like her terrible aunts who forced her to be invisible. Recognition. For what she did but the world was not ready for that. Not yet. Lost in thoughts she went back to the house. James followed her, lost in his own thoughts.

The next morning, Stringer sorted out all drawings that were not meant for the eyes of others. After all, he had no intention of causing Marjorie the awkward position of explaining herself. He gave the folder to Mrs Edwards who looked through it enthusiastically and gave it back to him after a while.

"She'll be glad to get the portfolio back, the drawings mean a lot to her."  
"Yes, I believe so," said Stringer about to leave the room.  
"You know, she only draws things that are really important to her." 

Stringer noticed this special tone in her voice again and his heart made a strange movement in his chest.

"And nobody wants to lose the things they love."

James stared at her. What had she just said? His heart was pumping excitedly in his chest. Could it really be possible? Was it... no! It could not be... It was not possible. Maybe?

"Are you all right, James?" asked Mrs Edwards worried, she had noticed that he had turned all pale and now had a feverish glow in his eyes.

"Yes, thank you. I..." he wondered what to say for a moment, "I'll go and start packing." 

He bowed quickly and left the room and Mrs Edwards wondered what he was packing, he had only just arrived.

The next days passed by in no time and Stringer was full of expectation for his next trip. He would travel by stagecoach and reach his new home in less than two days. Before that he would meet some of Edwards' friends at dinner to make the one or other contact that might bring him something in the future.

"You never know when you might need these people or when they might need you." Edwards had said and his wife handed James a little present.

"What is it?" 

But Mrs Edwards only clapped hands with excitement and forced him to open it, in her charming way. James was amazed to see that she had tears in her eyes that seemed more honest than the tears of the goodbyes from Grace and Stephen Wilson.

He opened the gift and froze.

"This is...but I...I can't accept this." he stuttered and a warm feeling of pride and friendship filled him.

"May I?" 

Asked Mrs Edwards and he nodded and the next moment she took him in her arms, then patted his face and nodded at him. In a hushed voice, she assured him.

"Your father would be proud of you."  
"Thank you, Mrs Edwards, but I don't think..."  
"Hush." 

She pretended to slap him on the arm, but only at that moment pulled her handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed her tears.

"Anyone would be proud of a son who is such a fine young man like you."  
James smiled gratefully.

"You are an asset to any company and family that would welcome you into their midst."  
Stringer tried to respond but Mrs Edwards was reluctant to give him time.  
"Please be proud of yourself."

"Well, come on, my boy. We are late!" cried Edwards and was already heading for the door. 

But James took a moment and stared at the gift of these incredibly nice people who, without judging him or making him smaller, had accepted him into their lives and treated him as if he was part of their friends or family.

He took one of the little cards out of the precious box, stroked it with his thumb and could not quite grasp what he was holding his hand.

JAMES STRINGER Jr  
ARCHITECT

His first own business cards, and on them was his name, plain and simple. A smile that would have softened the knees of any young lady around him appeared on his face. Yes, he was proud of himself and what he had worked for.

Two days later, and one day earlier than expected, he was sitting in the stagecoach that took him to his new workplace. He was looking forward to reach Pete Ravenshore's house this afternoon and it made him very nervous. Not only would he see Marjorie again, whom he thought about all the time, but he would also give her back her folder with the drawings and she would know that he knew what was in it. So as not to embarrass her, he would of course pretend that he had not been looking through the folder full of curiosity, but since he had dripped wax on one of the drawings of his hands the last evening in London, the truth could not really be hidden.

He was so excited to see how she was acting around her father, if she was different than with her aunt. Who always looked at him like he was a disgusting insect, and how he had found out from Azura, Grace and also from Mrs Edwards, who had not treated Marjorie much better. She was supposed to be invisible. What nonsense!

When the carriage finally arrived, he realised that Pete Ravenshore was a truly successful but modest man. The country estate was huge, but the main house looked rather simple but inviting. And as he had learned at Christmas almost two years ago, he had also paid a great price for his success. And still had to, because the relationship with Marjorie was not only good, as she told him at one of their Italian lessons. She would probably never forgive him completely for having to grow up with her unloved aunts, her mother's sisters, instead of him.

Shaking off the sad thought, he got out of the carriage and was immediately greeted friendly by Pete Ravenshore. 

"I'm so proud of you!" he cried, grabbing him by both arms. "So proud." 

He pointed inward, and as soon as they entered the house, they went to his study. There they had a glass of port and an intense conversation about Stinger's time in Italy, the exams and connections in London.

When Ravenshore left the room for a moment to get the revised plans for the cottages from another room, Stringer walked to the window. On a small table below lay a book he recognized as one of Marjorie's and her lace gloves. He remembered her first conscious encounter at the engagement party. Her thin long fingers. The tingling in his fingertips...he felt it again strangely now as he stroked the delicate fabric. 

"She is down by the river."

Ravenshore suddenly stood next to him and Stringer was surprised that he had not heard him come in. He looked at him questioningly. Ravenshore pointed to the gloves that Stringer had unconsciously taken in his hand and explained.

"Jo is building a small home there."

Frozen, Stringer raised his eyes, not knowing what to say. Mr Ravenshore laughed.

"Did you think I didn't know?"  
"Well, I..."

"We wanted to go to Italy together, but then I had to start the cottages in the east and well... she was not to be stopped."

"Remarkable."   
"Yes, she is." 

Ravenshore looked at Stringer with a knowing look and nodded. 

"Well, I guess you'd better take a walk and stretch your legs after your long trip."

Although it was only two days, Stringer understood what he meant and nodded insightfully.

"And maybe you run into her, just by chance, and you can walk her home."  
"That would be my pleasure, sir." James could not help smiling.  
"And James," Ravenshore looked at him with his piercing clear eyes, "stop calling me sir."  
"All right."

With quick steps Stringer ran across the field in the direction Ravenshore had shown him. He wondered how she would react to see him, after all he had arrived earlier.  
Amazed that she wanted to build a house on her own, he smiled. She was incredible. 

Ravenshore had told him that she preferred to do everything herself and had made up her mind to build a house. Even if it was just a hut, it was very impressive. He was curious how far she had come already. 

Unbelievable. How strong she was. He had never been more aware of this than at that moment when he saw her. He stopped and watched her from a distance as she dragged a large wooden beam to the side.

And as if she could sense him, she straightened up and her eyes widened in shock. She turned around and Stringer saw her narrow hands clenched at her sides into fists. 

"Mr Stringer." She said breathlessly as he came closer but she still did not turn to face him.  
"Miss Ravenshore." 

Stringer walked round her, and now stood before her at a moderate distance.

As he had already imagined, she looked very different from the way she looked with her aunt. Her dress was a simple cotton dress, but in such a rich green that her aunt would probably have fainted in shock. The white blouse underneath was so thin that it looked almost transparent. Her hair was quite tousled. Not a tight-fitting hair creation, but a simple braid like young girls used to wear.

He found her more beautiful than ever. 

And her eyes, oh her eyes were as clear and fresh as a mountain lake lightened by the sun. Embarrassed she let her gaze sink and he noticed the slight flush that rose over her neck and into her cheeks.

"I came a day early."  
"So I can see."

Their eyes got locked again for a moment and he realized that he should say something.

"Please forgive me for the way I acted. I was..."  
"Oh, no, Mr Stringer, please don't." She smiled timidly and it was just adorable,   
"It's all my fault."

"No, it isn't, my behaviour towards you was..."  
"No, my behaviour was inexcusable. But you can imagine, perhaps, that..."  
"Of course."

They both laughed briefly and let their eyes wander in embarrassment. Marjorie took a short breath and then explained in a serious voice.

"If this had come out... I don't know what my aunt would have done."  
James nodded, though he had no words, what could he say?

"It was planned differently," she then explained to him, "with Father it wouldn't…”

"You don't have to explain it to me," James started, but she interrupted him.

"Yes, yes, I mean," she closed her eyes to collect herself, then nodded and said in a clear voice, "Besides Azura, no one knew. I was all alone."

Her voice broke and again the urgent need to take her hand overtook him.  
"I understand that," he reassured her and searched her eyes.

"Do you forgive me?" she whispered and seemed briefly shocked when James shook his head.  
"There's nothing to forgive."

Time seemed to stand still, in contrast to the wind that freshened and blew a few strands of hair into her face. But before he could think of it, James caught it and tenderly stroked it behind her ear. She gasped for breath and her eyes fluttered in rhythm with his heart.

In this very moment the words of her father came back in his mind.

"You must know she will not abandon her beliefs or her passion to create."  
"Of course not." Stringer's heart was beating wildly in his chest.

"She will continue to try to play her part in this beautiful world."  
"Yes of course." Pride had filled him.

"But obstacles will continue to be placed in her path." Ravenshore inhaled deeply and then went on to make his point clear.  
"Jo needs a man by her side who will support her on her journey."  
"I know."

Pete Ravenshore then stared back at him with his pale eyes.  
"Are you that man?"

It had been clear to him before he had returned to England. But when he now felt her delicate skin under his fingers, and saw her doubtful yet hopeful look. He knew that they would make this journey together. 

"Shall we build it together?" 

He asked in a barely audible whisper, the small self-doubting sting in his heart aching briefly and held it captive for a blink of an eye until she nodded.

“I would like this very much. Mr Stringer.”

"We make a pretty good team."  
"I think so, too."  
"I'm sorry it took me so long to realize that I..."  
"Most importantly, you got it." She smiled at him cheekily, and he loved that expression.  
"Men are generally known to be slow."

Then she pulled away from him and ran off. James' heart was so light, he ran after her laughing and even though she was fast, he managed to catch up. He grabbed her and pulled her towards him and her laugh merged with his and he had no idea what was happening to him but suddenly his lips touched hers and it was beyond all words.

Breathlessly they let go of each other and looked deep into each other's eyes. They smiled and he took her hand and pulled her towards the main house.

"What are you doing?" she asked, slightly disappointed.  
"Talk to your father."

Pete Ravenshore had made some stupid decisions in his life. Some ill considered, some painfully expensive. But there was one thing he was absolutely certain of. It had been a good decision to bring James Stringer here and give him the responsibility of building the cottages, yes. He had a very good feeling about the matter and watched the two young people looking happily at each other as they came back from the river. 

Maybe it was even a better decision than he had thought.

*

1832

"That's great!"   
"What is it, ducky?" James asked his youngest and took him in his arms.  
"Mama says you're getting an award!"  
"Really?"

In astonishment, James looked at his wife, who stood in the doorway of their house and waved at him with a letter.

Slowly he ran towards her and followed her into the house. Protected from all glances of their children and employees, he kissed her tenderly on the mouth and embraced her slender body with both arms.

"James."  
"Hmm." He clung to her and inhaled her perfume.   
"You've been nominated for the Architecture Award."  
"What? Really?"

She handed him the paper and he flew over it in disbelief.

"But that's just..."  
"Well deserved."  
"No, but it can't be."

"James, just be happy."  
"I am..." he thought, "Your father had nothing to do with this, or?"  
"No, and they will write an article about you in the journal."

James also skimmed over this letter and, amazed and happy he took his wife in his arms and kissed her hair.

"I'm proud of you."  
"And I of you," he said, smiling down at her. Finally, just a week ago, a garden she had created had won a prize.

They looked at each other and lost themselves in their eyes before James kissed his wife passionately. Breathlessly she broke away from him, turned around and pulled him laughing into his office. The door fell shut and forgotten the letters dropped to the floor.

*

Architecture Journal / volume 62: 2018

…James Stringer was an architect of the British middle and upper classes in the 19th century. 

He had his education under Jackson Edwards in London and Stephen Wilson in Italy. After his successfully completed exams he was first responsible for the construction of several schools and working-class homes, a cross-border project by the well-known and socially committed architect Pete Ravenshore, whose daughter Marjorie (one of the world's first recognised garden designers; editor's note) he later even married. This happy union blessed seven children.

Stringer had a particular influence on the architecture of the coastal town of Sanditon in southern England, after it had to be largely destroyed and rebuilt after a dramatic storm surge in 1833.

He replaced the local architect Tomas Parker who was in dispute with the "Sanditon Holding" and took over the work there for about four years until 1837.

Letters and accounts from his heirs indicate that his family accompanied him to his respective projects throughout the country and abroad, often because his wife was responsible for the design of the gardens. Among his clients were also members of the aristocracy. But this did not seem to change the humble Mr and Mrs Stringer, they are described in whatever sources as modest and kind-hearted.

After years of living in London and projects all over Great Britain, Italy and Greece, he spend the rest of his life with his beloved wife in the place where today a street, the market place and his last house are named after him. 

We therefore recommend you to visit: Stringer Street, J.Stringer place, and the museum James Stringer House in the charming coastal town of Sanditon.

One of James Stringer’s most famous quotes is. 

"It's not about being awarded and getting praise. It is also not about building houses. It's about building homes."


End file.
